Break Me Down, I'm Ready, Break Me Down

A letter had come in from Father that morning, leading Apollo to the obvious conclusion that something was slightly out of the ordinary. He received letters often enough - usually after he had done something well regarding classes or Quidditch or whatever the case that time - but rarely were the letters addressed to both sons. So rather than opening it early and just relation the message to Christian, Apollo had chosen, strangely enough, to do the right thing and take it to him so they could both be present. The boys rarely saw each other, son with the second half of the year a third of the way gone. Part of it was Christian's avoiding Quidditch. Part was class schedules being different because of their houses. And part was Apollo only really spending his time with Hitamé, while Christian had a large group of friends to which he clung. So while ordinarily their social circles would have been essentially the same, school years had divided them and made it clear just how different the boys really were.

Searching for his brother was an annoying task right off, and Apollo found himself wishing he hadn't chosen to be the good brother. But after a frustratingly drawn out search, he happened upon Trisha, one of the friends Christian so loved spending time with, who explained that Apollo's brother had gone to his dorms to complete and essay so that, even if Friday night was wasted, he would have two days of freedom starting the next morning. It made sense, Apollo agreed, and was so very like his brother that he didn't even bother questioning the rationale. Ever trying to be optimistic, Christian was the sort that couldn't help but seek out opportunities to change things or make them better.

So Apollo meandered around the hall in front of the Hufflepuff dorms until someone came along who could be granted entry. After explaining a bit about who he was and what he wanted, the second year nodded and let him follow her inside, where she bounded up the steps and into the girl's dormitory side of the Hufflepuff Badger Den. Over-enthusiastic, the lot of them, Apollo thought, rolling his eyes as the portrait closed behind him.

A glance around showed a near empty common room, aside from one person who grabbed his attention without meaning to. Another of Christian's friends - Merlin, they were everywhere! - was sitting on her own. Alisha had always been interesting to the elder twin, if only because she was so very open with everything she said. Of course, she wasn't even close to bad looking, so that helped a bit, too. Just a bit. But hey, that wasn't the only draw. Christian found her amusing enough to befriend, which meant that Apollo being around her would drive the younger brother mad. Still, though, a large part of his curiosity was genuine, and couldn't quite be explained away as he sometimes wished it could.

"Hey," he offered, ambling over to her side of the room. "D'you know if Christian is upstairs? I've got something for him to look at." A smile was sent her way, designed to be charming and warm enough to get her to talk to him.

“So.......” The kid scratched his head, peering down at the pitifully small paragraph consisting of five lines on the roll of parchment before him. “How did Bodrod the Bearded spark off the third Goblin Rebellion again?”

“Had an affair with Grimble the Grouchy’s wife.” Alisha answered promptly, immediately followed by a jaw-splitting yawn. The sports page of the Prophet hovering in mid air above her face flipped itself; Gwenog Jones had dropped three Quaffles in her last game, again. Pity. The old guard never really knew when to put up their shoes, determined on slugging them on until they grew too big for aged, wrinkled, eczema-d feet.

The lines on the third year’s billboard-shaped forehead furrowed, looking for all the world like valleys and mountains. It was almost a medical miracle. He squinted at her dubiously, “I don’t remember any goblin leader called Grimble the Grouchy.”

“That’s because you don’t pay attention in class, Tiny Tim.” Alisha reprimanded gently. Then her molars greeted the world in another massive yawn, hand waving above her prostate self on the couch carelessly. “It was quite the scandal. Lima the Loose was the prettiest goblin of them all, and felt quite conflicted, but eventually made away with her star crossed lover in the end. Her husband began a war of violence and bloodshed to get her back.”

“My name’s Thomas.” The kid said, mouth twisting into a moue of self-righteous petulance. “And doesn’t that sound a little too much like the Trojan War?”

From where her head was propped on the armrest, and her feet on the opposite end, Alisha twisted her face to the side and winked. “Never heard of all Muggle stories being inspired some way or the other from real Wizarding events?”

Tiny Tim goggled at her. “Helen of Troy was a goblin?”

“Of course not, now whoever gave you that ridiculous idea?” Her eyebrows richocheted straight up, in an universal expression of disbelief and where-on-earth-do-you-come-up-with-these-things. Her head flipped back to the page- ooh, new broom ratings were out. “You really need to get a hold on your imagination, dearie. Now shoo, I’m busy.”

Tiny Tim’s brows drew together in consternation, even as the newspaper began flapping at his face, not subtle at all in ferrying him out of the room. “Bu-....but you just.....and wasn’t the Rebellion supposed to be the goblins rebelling against the huma-”

The portrait hole shut on his face.

The newspaper bopped over, and Alisha patted it on the head. “Good boy.”

It preened and flipped open to the sports pages again. Alisha shifted in place till her bum was comfortable, and settled back in to read. And all the while, her heartbeat thrummed against her chest, squeezing on itself in the triumph of successfully cheating the Vow one more time.

”Its dangerous.” Ma sighed, looking too dispirited for scoldings now. “If you don’t want to say the truth all the time.....couldn’t you just refrain from speaking, sometimes?”

“But.....It doesn’t get it.” Ali wrung her hands, brilliantly imploring. “If I don’t know for sure it isn’t the truth. If I can keep myself convinced. The Truth doesn’t matter Ma......”

“What I believe it to be does.”

One of the baby badgers frolicked by, and the click of the portrait door closing shut frittered over the warm flagstones. The measured, unmistakably expensive sound of formal shoes clicking over stone filtered into her ears- interesting. A shadow loomed over the couch she was flopped over, voice still a little distance away- smoother than caramel. The paper flopped onto her belly and quivered pleasantly.

She straightened up fully to field of view, and the cloak slid down her shoulders, clavicles peeking under the white of a fluffed collar, long and lanky legs folding up beneath the bathrobe (of course a bathrobe, they weren’t expecting her to dry herself off post-shower in the steaming humidpot that was the dorms, were they? Of course she preferred the natural breeze the best, but her Head of House had forbidden her to venture out of the common room this way, weirdly enough.) Her head turned, mane whipping through the air to pepper the fine features of one Apollo Zabini with water drops.

“Oops....sorry.” Her index finger snagged through the wet hair scattered haphazardly over the shoulders, black locks sticking to the exposed skin, lips smiling apologetically. Ali pushed her bare feet onto the floor, propelling herself up and helpfully brushing a couple of stray droplets off his shirt. And he was such a reserved prat too. She ought to be given the Peace Prize.

Then she sat down again, cotton of the robe parting slightly on her lower calves. “Your brother stormed up in a snit to his dorm some time back. I’d take you up, but he doesn’t like you and you always piss him off anyway. So I won’t.” She beamed. “Sorrie.”

Apollo blinked as the spray of droplets assailed him, marginally frustrated by the fact that he had been as dressed up as ever when Alisha decided to provide him with an uncalled for shower. She did not seem as sorry as she attempted to, but he supposed he would have to take her at her word. After all, she had never been the sort to dodge the truth or what she felt ought to be stated. Bluntness may not have always been the typical Hufflepuff MO, but with Alisha it was nothing but the norm.

An unimpressed expression crossed Apollo's face, chin lifting in frustration. Why was he so curious about this girl, anyway? She seemed to be intent on destroying him bit by bit, even if that meant using his brother against him. No, the two did not often get along, but he could not claim that he did not care. And Apollo did not dare assume that his brother cared little, either. They had grown up separately but still neither was able to pretend they did not love each other as brothers ought.

Sinking onto the chair nearest Alisha's spot, his gaze moved from the staircase and back to the girl in question. "Yes," he conceded, "we often bicker. But I can assure you that Christian will want to see what I've got in this letter. Father addressed it to the pair of us, and it's shockingly rare that something like that happens."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Apollo added, "So either you can run up and fetch him, or I'll hang about until he goes down. Really, though, you're stuck with me no matter your choice."

His tone was overly formal as compared to his original greeting, but Apollo felt that it was truly her fault that he was acting that way. In the end, she had changed his demeanor by both calling him out and refusing to simply pop in and get Christian's attention. Yes, Apollo could have done so himself, he supposed. Except the rules were fairly concrete: Not your house? Don't go up, then. While Apollo was not always one to stick tightly to the rules, he also was not one to so openly refute them that he would be punished for his actions. So indeed, he would wait. And Alisha would just have to deal with it.